Eggnog is Tradition
by FirefliesUnite
Summary: Sam is alone, waiting for something to lift his mood. Maybe his brother can help?


Eggnog is Tradition

‚Everything has changed.' Sam sighed, talking to no one in particular. He was sitting on a crappy bed, in a crappy motel room and was staring at a molding wall. None of this helped to lift his spirits. One look out of the dusty window proved that going for a walk would only depress him too. Christmas lights shone all over the streets, people dressed as Santa were shaking hand bells to ask money for charity, and various groups of carolers were roaming the town, forcing their cheer upon any unsuspecting passersby they caught having a gloomy look on their face.

Sam lay back on the bed, clutching the gun harder in his right hand. It had been months since he had been able to rest properly. The gun always at the ready, his bag always packed, the car almost still warm. Living on the run had only gotten harder, since he and Dean had decided to go their separate ways. Well, since he had decided that Dean would be better off without him. He was, once more, a liability to his brother. It was better to steer clear and simply accept that…

It wasn't the first time it has happened, but it was the first time it had gone on for this long. During the first months, Sam expected Dean to show up any day and tell him to cut the crap and come back.

It hadn't happened.

After that he started hoping for Dean to show up and beat the shit out of him, then drag him to the Impala and back to their old life.

That hadn't happened either.

For the last couple of weeks he would have been content hearing from his brother, knowing that he was fine, that this had been the right decision.

He kept waiting for it to happen.

Somehow, after all these years of fighting, being thrown around like ragdolls by every evil son of a bitch, cocky enough to walk the surface of the earth, Dean seemed to have finally gotten the message to leave him alone. Their usual game had come to an end.

'This is what I wanted.' Sam kept telling himself, while staring at the rotting ceiling in his room. That sentence had become the monotonous refrain of his life, the thread keeping his days together. A group of carol singers passed by on the street and he closed his eyes, just for a second.

The door being opened tore him from his restless dozing. He darted into a sitting position, gun already pointed at the intruder, breathing hard.

'Whoah, Sammy.' Dean lifted his hands.

'Dean!' His brother's name almost sounded foreign to his ears and he realized he hadn't said it out loud for months. _Dean?_ This couldn't be. Sam's eyes widened while his brain tried to convince him that what he was seeing was real.

'The one and only.' That familiar grin spread across his brother's face while he slung the duffel bag from his shoulders and laid it on the table. A side-glance in his direction made Sam realize that he was still pointing the gun at him.

'You look like shit.' Came the gracious comment from Dean Winchester.

'How did you find me?' The younger brother asked instead of reacting.

'Are you kidding?' Dean turned to him, a surprised look on his face. Then he simply shook his head mumbling something about 'stupid kid…' under his breath.

'Dean' Sam started. 'I'm sorry…'

'Shut up.' Dean cut him short. 'I don't care. And this isn't the time for you to be pathetic about stuff. Cas has been keeping an eye on you and you should hear him whine about how miserable you are.'

For a while Sam said nothing, while Dean unpacked several things from his duffel bag.

'Why now?' The youngest Winchester finally asked. Dean shuffled around some more before turning around, holding two paper cups in his hands.

'It's Christmastime, smartass. The annual Winchester eggnog tradition has to be kept alive. And since there are no other Winchesters around for me to celebrate with, I have to make do with you. Even if I have to dig you up in the shittiest motel in California.' He shot a disgusted look around the room. 'Did you have to pick this place?'

He then walked over to his brother and shoved a cup, brimful with a yellowish liquid, into his hand.

'Store-bought. As always.' Dean grinned again before grabbing the remote and settling into the armchair next to the bed. He switched on the TV, not even giving Sam time to reply, not waiting for anything. As if this was the most natural thing in the world. As if the last few months of anguish Sam had felt could be erased with just one broad grin and a cup full of gas station eggnog. Yet somehow, that was what was happening. For a few seconds Sam simply observed Dean, trying to decide what to do. Then he shifted to the back of the bed, kicked off his shoes and cleared his throat while raising his cup towards his brother.

'Cheers.' He said, trying for a smile. Their cups touched without making a sound.

Sam took a sip and relaxed. Then he suddenly blinked. For the first time since he had started running eight months ago, he could relax. A weight shifted from his shoulders and evaporated. Somehow, things were back to normal again.

For a while none of the brothers said a word. Then Dean's eyes met his and he said in the most casual way possible:

'Sammy, I know it is useless to tell you not to run away… But don't you ever do that to me again.'


End file.
